


The Butterfly

by Kammeri



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action & Romance, Duelling, F/M, Female Friendship, Fights, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, One Shot, Short & Sweet, Some Romance, Swordplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:41:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22991149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kammeri/pseuds/Kammeri
Summary: “Mi amor, do you remember our first meeting? You know, I almost had you. I did! I caught you in that last strike, but Morrigan hurled a blast at me. I bet if we were to duel again, I’d easily win.”A one-shot in which our dear Warden must prove her worth in a re-duel with Zevran.
Relationships: Leliana/Female Tabris (Dragon Age), Leliana/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai/Female Tabris, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden, Zevran Arainai/Leliana
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	The Butterfly

**Author's Note:**

> Mi amor = my love

# The Butterfly

“Are you quite sure? I won’t hold back.”

“I’d be insulted if you did.”

“And I don’t duel with honor.”

“As a rogue should not.”

“Very well, mi amor.”

And thus the duel commenced.

She advanced, leaping towards her enemy, and, with his reflexes kicking in, he countered, and together their swords clashed, and a great, resonant clang resounded throughout the campsite. She disengaged, none the worse for wear having expected her opposition to be quick. But this wasn’t fencing with Shianni.

She needed to get dirty.

She struck once more, and the swords collided. She twirled and flipped her dagger onto the opposite side and attempted a slash at his shoulder pads, but he blocked her forearm from movement. Panic ensued as they pushed their swords against one another, steel scraping like nails upon a chalkboard. Bringing his face closer to his own sword, he smirked and taunted his opponent.

“Giving up already, my dear Kallian?”

Not any sort of warrior, he could not topple her easily. But his strength was still greater than hers, and it began to overpower her. Her muscles cried out, and in desperation, she slipped her leg around him and pulled her weight backwards. Both elves buckled forward and landed in the dirt. She wrapped the other leg around his hips and brought her head against his, slamming it with brute force, then twisted herself left, plunging her sword into the muddy earth as she stood up and regained her posture. Zevran brought himself back up, chuckling mildly as he rubbed his forehead.

“Not even close, assassin.”

Zevran brushed off the dirt from his leather gear and alternated between flipping and catching his dagger in his hand. He grinned wickedly, and within mere seconds, fell into the shadows, blending into the unseen darkness. Tabris’ eyes raced across the vast blackness, but she couldn’t make out anything. She slowed her breathing, and listened carefully. Zevran had a gift for precision; he knew where to strike to kill quickly, how much to pressure to press into his blade, and the ways to cover it up. But he was lacking subtlety, and no matter how much he tried, her ears could pick up the faint shuffling of Antivan boots.

“You think you can hide from another rogue, do you?”

With one swift motion, she pulled a gas bomb from her pouch and hurled it behind her. It landed with a heavy thud, and mere seconds later, it exploded. Lethal green fumes exuded from the blast, and Tabris eyes narrowed, searching her surroundings for the young elf. In the distance, a body laid upon the ground, writhing in agony as it coughed violently.

Regret and anxiety shot through her, and she sheathed her weapons as she sprinted toward Zevran. She crouched down and felt for his pulse. 

_Still beating._

She turned her head and began to call for Wynne, but the elven man’s hand shot out, catching her forearm with a tight grip.

“Indeed I do.”

He swung towards her jaw with a clenched fist, and she fell backwards into the ground. She winced in pain, and propelled herself back up with her elbow. As she spit out a glob of blood, she glared toward the cocky rogue. He shrugged as he repeated, “I don’t duel with honor.”

“Clearly.”

“Shall we continue?”

“We shall.”

He gave her his hand and pulled her to her feet. She gave him a nod, and the fight continued. She felt awful. Not only about her physical condition, but about her fighting. She beat him once. With a team, granted, but nevertheless, she defeated him. How did she do it before? Why couldn’t she do it now?

She shook the thought away and faked an attack as she swept the wide area with her sword. Zevran stepped forward, thrusted his dagger, and she slammed her dagger downward in a poorly judged attack. She missed, and his dagger pierced her cuirass.

He followed up, bashing her with his shoulder, and as she stumbled, he swiftly moved backward in a coup de grace to push her into the floor. She groaned in frustration, drawing the attention of a certain red headed bard.

“I believe the last two were mine, dear warden. Shall we call it quits or-“

“Don’t fool yourself,” spoke Leliana from afar, setting her lute against her tent. “We both know that last hit was a fluke, Zevran. Had her dagger connected, she’d have caused some damage.”

“Perhaps. But it didn’t.”

“She’s exhausted. After a long day of fighting dark spawn, you really think she has the energy to take you on? Give her a quick break—15 minutes.”

“Why do you care, hmm?”

Leliana flashed an innocent smile. “I’m just interested is all.”

A beat of silence passed between the three before Zevran shrugged and waved Tabris off. Leliana beckoned her to come close, and they sat near the fire.

“His smugness must be annoying.”

“You have no idea.”

“Oh, I do. And it’s impacting your performance.”

Leliana’s eyes searched the campsite for any lingering ears before returning to the maimed elf, tired from her battling. Leliana hesitated, biting her lip. “What if I taught you an ancient bard technique?”

“I’m no bard, Leliana.”

“True, and so you can’t execute it perfectly. But Zevran relies upon his experience with you. In a duel, a novice really has the advantage.

The novice strikes with unpredictability. Her actions are foreign, unknown. She may flail about randomly, but in that, she has the upper-hand. Perhaps we can utilize that to throw him off his game.”

Tabris stared at the lay sister in incredulity. It sounded insane. But really, what choice did she have? “...alright then. What’s it called and how do I do it?”

“It’s known as the Butterfly.”

“The... the Butterfly?”

Leliana giggled in delight. “Bit of a funny name. It was first developed by Jeshavis and was passed down by many bards before me. Marjolaine taught me it.”

“Why is it called that?”

“A butterfly is graceful in it’s movements. We bards aspire to be that in combat. Each strike we make is purposeful and flows together like a dance. Now listen carefully.

The Butterfly is complex, and you won’t be able to do it in quick succession, but perhaps it can throw him off. You can’t attack first though. I noticed that in your duel. You’re offensive, which isn’t the worst thing. But that leads you to be too brash in your movements. Let him come to you.

When the time is right, parry, but do not riposte. Flick your wrist, and slash at his. He’ll disengage his weapons, and then you must go for his throat.”

Together, the two rogues practiced in the moonlight of the forest. It was messy, unsophisticated, and not at all graceful like a butterfly, but Tabris could do it. She returned to the campsite and the awaiting assassin.

“It’s about time. Let’s make this one interesting. One strike and the other is out. How does that sound?”

“Fine with me.”

The two once again stood opposite of one another, moving clockwise as they awaited for the other to move.

“You know, mi amor, you’re very predictable. I lost our first duel because it was my first time engaging such a talented young woman. But I’ve watched you. And I know how you fight. And that’s why...”

He stepped forward.

“I can’t lose.”

And he advanced.

He dashed towards her, his eyes blazing as he pinpointed Tabris’ openings; the eyes of a murderous assassin without remorse. _Breathe. Focus, Kallian_ , she told herself. _And... now!_

**Clank!**

She parried his thrust, gripped her dagger tightly, and threw her wrist towards his in a swift slash. Zevran’s eyebrows furrowed, and he instinctively disengaged from her, leaping backwards. Tabris missed, the intensity of her misplaced maneuver throwing her off guard. She spun back around, and within seconds, she threw her offhand dagger at the elf. As he dodged the projectile, she dashed towards him, struck at his leg with hers, and held him below her with her knife at his throat.

Tabris gasped for air as beads of sweat trailed from her forehead onto her neck. Zevran grinned, and he relinquished his weapons.

“Well, I guess that settles it then.”

Tabris dropped her remaining dagger, and fell onto the ground with Zevran, embracing him as she squealed with happiness. She whipped her head around to a smiling Leliana clapping softly at the sight of her victor.

Zevran caught her gaze, and smirked. As the fire faded and the sound of the party diminished as everyone fell into sleep, he snuck into the bard’s tent.

“Interesting skill. You’ll teach it to me, I hope.”

“I’ll make a bard out of you someday, Zevran.”

Zevran shifted uncomfortably, thumbing the straps of his leather armor. He cleared his throat, and Leliana rolled her eyes.

“What do you need to get off your chest?”

“Nothing. I just... I let her win.”

“Did you now?”

He sighed. “No, not really. I... got distracted. In that moment she tried to go for my wrist, she was so dedicated. She’s... very beautiful.”

“She is. And you’re very fond of her, aren’t you?”

No response came from the elf.

“She wouldn’t duel with you for so long if she didn’t like you. Maybe in the same way. Maybe not. But regardless, don’t approach her like you would usually. She won’t fall for your typical tricks.”

Zevran nodded in understanding. He murmured a soft thanks to the bard, and swiftly left the tent. As he walked back to his own, his eyes lingered upon the warden’s tent. He felt drawn to her. So close, but unable to reach what he desired. His eyes fell, and he whispered, “Good duel, Kallian.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love Zevran so much. SO much. It’s a little creepy at this point. Anyway, so I’ve been wanting to experiment with writing fight scenes! I’m definitely not where I want to be just yet, but I think I’m making some progress. Let me know what you think!
> 
> P.S. I love the friendship between Leliana and Zevran so much. It’s too bad traveling with two rogues is... not ideal. They’re amazing.
> 
> Thanks for reading! ^^;


End file.
